Chapter 5: Episode 3

Disclaimer: I don't own the Boys, Highschool DxD or any other franchise that can be found in this fanfiction.

Words Count: 6139

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I spent weeks doing everything to build my Rep up, saving cats from trees, stopping robberies, convincing suicidal people that their lives meant something and they should really think things through. Real fun stuffs.

Sure, I could have debuted way sooner, but my plan needed me to already be famous.

I was a Demon, I wouldn’t be able to pull in Christians regardless of how much effort I decided to put in. But, why build a new fanbase when I could take and assimilate the existing ones? Satanic cults had been a thing in the States for decades, if not centuries. Then there were the rock bands plus their fanbases and the metric tons of rebellious kids and teenagers everywhere looking to usurp their parents.

A push here, a sound-comment there and I would have an army of people looking up to me. Most of them might not be old or powerful, but I was playing the long game. I gave those old politicians one, two decades at most before they all started to croak and the entire country was put in their hands. Best thing was? I had an extremely long-life. Like, Belial couldn’t even quantify it. According to him, as long as I didn’t die prematurely, I might outlast the Universe.

Meaning, I could affect a generation of people and more to come. I could wipe out the toxic influence of Christianity with my presence, and a few centuries later, who would even care about a defunct religion? The fact that I was thrown down to Hell, simply for not having blind faith in an obnoxious ‘father-figure’ who constantly judged my actions might, might have something to do with this decision, but I wasn’t just being a petty motherfucker here…

Christianity hurt. Their religious symbols, their churches, even fucking prayers to old Yahweh felt like someone hammering on my head.

I had tested this out already, tried holding a silver cross and the fucking thing melted in my palm, burning my flesh. Churches, depending on their locations and history caused me headaches ranging from one all the way up to eight and the prayers, regardless of their sincerity, made me unbelievably angry. Like, murderously angry. I had learnt to ignore them during these few weeks, but it’s still a work-in-progress.

What annoyed me the most was why these religious symbols and locations were affecting me. Why? Because I was a Demon? So much for benevolence, I had done nothing to deserve his contempt, hurt no one! I even saved a cat from a tree this morning! Why the fuck was I being punished? You could say that I sinned by killing the Cryptids, but they tried to kill me first! I was just defending myself and others.

It made no sense whatsoever, and how my parents could stand a religion steeped in so much hypocrisy and falsities that it was practically knees-deep in shits, how anyone could tolerate such a childish, asshole of a God genuinely baffled me. By the time I was done, Christianity would be naught but a dusty old relic of an Age long gone, as was it rightfully should have been in the first place, if not for a bunch of idiotic sheep promoting it.

Most of them didn’t even have faith in half the shits they preached, it had always been about Sir Washington and his green. And those who actually did have faith were more often than not prejudice fucks seeking the approval of an invisible father-figure who couldn’t be bothered to show his face.

I had disliked Christianity for the longest time, before my parents’ deaths. I had felt like I was being coerced and forced to follow a religion and a God I did not care for, but this, this was the final nail in the proverbial coffin.

I was being punished for no reason other than my lack of faith and Demonhood, and I would not have it. Yahweh, his prejudices and that cavalcade of Lovecraftian monsters he named angels could choke on my hairy-balls and die for all I cared.

But, my vendetta against Christianity and its Lord aside, that wasn’t all I had done within the last few weeks. No, no, I wasn’t so lazy. When I wasn’t saving people, or testing the extent of damages Christianity could cause me, I’d be using my powers. Demonic Magic was instinctual, the Magic Circles created basically did all the heavy-lifting for me, I simply needed to will my Mana according to the instructions and the outcomes I desired would be enacted.

It was almost ridiculous how easy using Demonic Magic was, it’s much the same as breathing. But, as with Worthlessness, I had found knowledge and insights about the outcome would heavily reduce my Mana consumption. For example, I could create a fire with little to no thought, which on average would consume about five points of Mana.

Yet, if I had an accurate, detailed picture in my mind, plus the knowledge of what fire actually was, what made it work and its make-ups, I could halve the cost and still create another fireball with the same intensity. Other things factored in the equation too, like how large I wanted the fireball to be, how much oxygen I needed to feed it,…etc. It seemed so simple in theory, but I knew better.

Having fought actual Supernatural before, I knew there were moments in a fight where you couldn’t even stop to take a breather, let alone think about the schematic of your next attack. Oftentimes, you would be lashing out wildly and blindly at and with whatever you could. Still, as long as I could maintain my distance, this shouldn’t prove too difficult to manage. I could always bombard my foes with spells, then get into CQC once they had been worn out.

Last but not least, was Worthlessness– Belial’s Clan Trait. One of the most, if not most powerful Trait to be created by the Devil. According to Belial, this Trait had been based on Lucifer’s Miracle Breaker, an unique ability the former Morningstar of God had deduced to stand on equal ground with his father. It allowed him to nullify all of God’s miracles. Blessings would wither, Enhancements would be negated and Holy Smites would have their destructive output severely reduced.

Worthlessness was even more versatile, affecting not only the Divinity of the Gods, but anything imaginable, so long as I could comprehend and understand its inner-working, even the Strong Force which held the Universe together could be nullified effortlessly with a snap of my fingers…

The mere implication made me hot and bothered with a need to test out Worthlessness on actual living beings, preferably the angels. I wondered what sort of face Yahweh would make when I unraveled his creations into a mass of atoms and Holy Energy? Would he feel sadness like a father would mourning his children? Would he cry? Throw a tantrum like the man-child the Old Testament portrayed him as, maybe?

Regardless, Worthlessness was the perfect newbie Trait, seeing as Belial was a lot more reasonable than the rest. I’d have been happy with him alone, yet I knew there were about eighty more still waiting for me, Daemons of unimaginable might, and all that stood in my way was my own mastery of Worthlessness. The moment I unlocked Worthless Incarnated– Belial’s true form, I could start training a second Clan Trait from the Ars Goetia.

Which was excellent.

Worthlessness was easily the tamest out of all the Traits, and thus far, I had been able to achieve partial-transformation, successfully turning my limbs and extremities into the same greyish-mist that the Trait often took the form of, meaning our true form was well within my grasp now. I simply needed to wait, which was easier said than done with the Sins constantly screeching at me like a bunch of crazed mutts. The worst offender of them all was Wrath…

That guy wouldn’t understand the meaning of patient even if the definition took a humanoid form and beat him over the head with a metal-bat.

Obviously, I wasn’t the only one making progress. Most people didn’t realize this, but telekinesis was a God-Level power, combined with my instructions and creativity, Cindy was gradually developing into a real monster on her own. She was nowhere close to snapping Homelander’s spine, or crushing entire eighteen-wheelers into small cubes, but she was getting there, and I could not be more proud. Especially since she had expressed a complete lack of desire for Powah!

It took a while to convince Cindy, took even longer for her to take the training seriously, but I had finally gotten through her thick skull. I could not protect her forever, nor did I want to. After all, I was a Cryptids Hunter, and currently a rising Hero in the States, I couldn’t afford the to take care of her, not when I barely had time for myself, what with all the extensive training I was throwing myself in. I liked Cindy, she was the little sister I never had, but I wasn’t her nanny and she needed to understand that.

From the scrawny girl she was, Cindy had grown a lot of muscles in the last few weeks, I suspected whatever gave her telekinesis must have accelerated her muscle-growth. In addition to that, she had learnt to cover her entire body under a coat of telekinesis, which would lessen incoming damages and enhance her punches and kicks. It wasn’t nearly as powerful as what I could do with Demonic Mana, but it was… Acceptable progress, ‘For now.’

Belial croaked in the back of my mind.

Our individual development aside, the public had split into two sides, each with their own opinions about me. I did not attempt to hide my true nature, since no secret ever stayed a secret in this Age. I showed them my full brilliance, bask in the humans’ praises and reveled in their fear. My horns, my tail, my wings, every part of myself that Vought’s Marketing Department had practically begged me to hide, I revealed with little care.

Why? Because I could, and because showing your truest self was the quickest way to gain someone’s trust. If I had kept the fact I was a Daemon to myself, everything I have, am and will do would be under scrutiny the moment it was revealed that I was a Daemon.

Of course, this decision came with its own batch of problems.

The more conservative / fanatic of the population believed I was worse than Hitler and Stalin combined, this group was made up of mostly religious people and the older congressmen. They claimed I was here to bring about the Apocalypse and steal the souls of humans, that I was a safety-hazard who should be locked in a chained box and buried under a prison.

It was ridiculous, why on Earth would I want their damned souls? What use did I have for those? I couldn’t be bothered to touch the filthy things if they were on a discount, let alone when it was stained with beliefs in God.

The other group thought I was the greatest thing to ever happen to Humanity since the invention of breads. They consisted of the younger demographics: Teenagers, young adults,…etc. It wasn’t hard to understand why, I was incredibly handsome, like Supernaturally handsome. I practically had every woman on the planet creaming at the mere sight of my face, including some younger nuns I had met. You’d be surprised how easy it was to corrupt those gals’.

They were impressionable and sexually-frustrated. The really devoted ones hadn’t even touched themselves in their twenties, believing it was dirty and sinful. Seducing them was as simple as taking candy from a baby.

My male audience on the other hand were, more often than not, young men who were directionless in life, which I was more than happy to help them in exchange for their support. I even made a Twitter account– Arguably the worst place on the planet, losing to just 4chan, to respond to them, and my YouTube page was full of educational contents teaching them how to put on a tie, fix a car, how to keep their composure under duress and train their bodies from the ground up.

It was simple to capture their hearts, most of them either had a shitty father-figure or didn’t have one at all. And thanks to my relatively youthful appearance, I was stuck between an odd sort of limbo of being their Internet Dad and their Bro. The fact that my wings were edgier than the sharpest blade might have something to do with it too. On a popularity chart, Gods were being dethroned and Demons, Dragons were constantly rising.

It took a while, but at last I was famous enough to debut as a Vought’s Hero. Although my fanbase was less than the Seven, not by much mind you, but they were all diehard fans. The type to insult anyone who dared to criticize their idol… Yeah, calling it a mere fanbase was wrong.

It was basically a cult at this point. I smiled devilishly, winking at the make-up artist assigned to me by Madelyn herself. The young woman shied away, blushing brightly as she tried to focus and reach for the Styling Gel. I slithered my arm over her waist, only to receive a weak, playful chop on my head. “Stop that, Johnathan. We only have five more minutes before your presentation, Ms. Stillwell will have my hide if you’re late.”

My finger lightly pressed at her tailbone, my grin widening as she shuddered. I stood, leaning over her shoulder and whispering in her ears. “Oh? Are you sure you want me to stop, Michelle? I reckon I can make you cum once–“

My hands snaked into the tight jean that looked painted over her toned legs. I thoroughly enjoyed her firm ass, fingers digging into the supple flesh as she moaned wantonly. “– Or maybe even twice in that time…”

The lust building up in her core was delicious to my senses. Michelle Le was a beautiful Asian woman with curly black hair and glossy, almost teary eyes. She was married, yet that hadn’t stopped her from flirting with me first day on the job, which I gladly obliged. Ever since then, our relationship had been like this, she would come to my place to ‘discuss her job’ and return with a womb full of cum… Did I feel bad for her husband?

No, not really.

Cease your bitching, I wasn’t the one who struck the first blow here, people.

Michelle did.

I even restrained my Charm when I heard she was married, but if the woman herself didn’t care, why should I?

“Speak up, my good little slut.” I growled, my voice overlapping with Lust as I tugged her shirt down and nibbled on her naked shoulder. Her emotions surged at the humiliation, and I wasn’t talking about anger. “Do you really want me to stop?”

“John– Aaahh– Johnathan– Ohhh…”

My index finger dug into her wet and damp panties, gently circling around her tight, needy hole. Michelle’s knees buckled as she tensed and fell into my arms. She was close, I could tell. I grinned at the sight of drools dripping from her lips. While she did shoot the first shot, Michelle Le hadn’t been such a wanton slut in the beginning. If anything, her heritage made her sort of a prude, but how could she return to the way she was after tasting the Forbidden Fruit?

After knowing how good and addictive sex with a Daemon could be?

“Do you want to cum?” She nodded weakly in my chest. “Then beg, slut. Pray, and maybe I’ll consider it.”

“Yessshh–! Pleash, pleash let me cum.” I smirked, gazing at the clock behind us. Three minutes, more than enough to make Michelle howl for Yahweh, but why spoil the funs now? Some dishes tasted much better cold. I shook away Lust’s influence and retreated. Michelle groaned as she sank to her knees, almost begging. “W- Why? Johnathan, I need this.”

I patted her on the cheek. “Hmm... No. I’ve changed my mind, you’re going to have to wait, love. Consider this payback for that chop you gave me.”

She looked frustrated out of her mind, angered by the sudden loss of pressure against her private part. I sat on the chair, legs crossed with the elegance of a nobleman. Took Belial quite some time to beat that into me, but it was well-worth it. The Asian woman scowled, mumbling resentfully beneath her breath as I gently grabbed her chin, wiping the clear liquid staining my fingers on her lips, a playful look plastered on my face. “You’re not allowed to touch yourself either, or this won’t ever happen again…”

She froze as I loomed over her. “Understood, slut?”

Michelle pouted, and I couldn’t help cooing at the expression she was making, but I had made my decision, and I was nothing if not a man of my words.

“Now come lick my fingers clean of your dirty juice, I have a press-meeting to attend.” Michelle crawled closer to me and eagerly took my fingers in her mouth, licking, sucking and moaning loudly. It was only the room’s phenomenal soundproofing that stopped some technicians from hearing us. I sighed as the woman tried to unbuckle my pants. Lust and Pride chuckled.

‘What a greedy little bitch.’

‘Let’s get this meeting over with and give the needy slut what she wants.’

“Good girl.” Not for the first time since arriving here, I thought to myself how amazing it had been to be reborn as a Daemon. Johnathan Reid did pull a lot of girls, but he could have never made them willingly prostrate and humiliate themselves like this. For all my hatred toward God, I must admit he did a good thing sending me to Hell, or I’d be in Heaven praying and listening to those obnoxious hymns right now. “I love being a Daemon.”

You are reading story Ars Goetia– Antichrist at novel35.com

——◇  [Ars Goetia] ◇——

“… And now, the newest addition of Vought’s crime-fighting family– Aptly named Ars Goetia!” The  My gigantic wings flapped about in excitement as a thunderous round of applause was sent my way. I gently floated down from the platform and near a smiling Madelyn. I snaked my arm over her waist, pulling the older woman closer as I placed a brief kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you Madelyn, and to all of you who have come here today, regardless of your intentions, know that I’m thankful.”

My gaze swept through the group nearest to the stage. It didn’t take much for me to sense their hatred and fear, the beliefs and faith they had in God were blinding to my sight, they were smart. They could have come with eggs and tomatoes to throw at me, but that did not serve their purpose. All that would accomplish was make them into zealous clowns, and they knew it. No, no. They were here to discredit me, some were even sent by the Vatican itself.

‘I’m gonna enjoy this.’ I silently let my words sink in and allow the humans to bask in my presence. Pride practically preened at the attention we were receiving, while Lust grinned at the pretty blonde nun hiding in the group. She was pretty in a of cute, ‘girl-next-door’ type with long, lustrous hair swept back and kept in place by a simple white band, her blue eyes twinkling with emotions. Desire, disgust aimed toward herself, and as she felt my gaze on her, the nun shivered.

With both fear and something else.

She clasped her hands together, palming the cross-shaped necklace and began to pray for forgiveness. A minute, unnoticeable wince ran down my frame as Wrath snarled and Lust chuckled darkly. ‘Before long, she’ll be praying to us.’

“Ars Goetia, is there any truth to the rumor that you’re responsible for the event now known world-wide as New York’s Bloody Storm?” I smiled at the Muslim woman, whose black hair was hidden below her headwear and made to reply, but not before engraving all of her into my mind. She was strong of mind, my Charm did affect her, yet clearly not as much as it would other women, and that excited me. ‘How long will she be able to resist the temptation that’s us, I wonder?’

“Yes, I’m in fact responsible for that mess. It was not my intention harm anyone, just that my descent to Earth hasn’t exactly been peaceful.”

I paused, as if trying to formulate my sentence, but that wasn’t true. I had this entire meeting planned out to a tee, I had gone through every single press-meeting the Seven had had during their time as Heroes and prepared for any potential scenario. “While ultimately, no one has been hurt, I still want to right my wrongs and hopefully atone for my mistake. It’s why I decided to become a Hero, that and the money of course.”

I had found that people did not like being lied to, I could say that I merely wanted to make up for the inconvenience I had caused, but that would give me a PG, family-friendly vibe that did not fit with the image I had portrayed thus far. The reason my tactic on YouTube had worked so well was because I was brutally honest with my audience. I had never hidden my need for wealth, nor did I attempt to hide my desires, and that worked.

The saying, ‘Better the Devil you know than the one you don’t’, existed for a reason.

People did not like being lied to, or cheated, or manipulated. Any and all attempts on my part to hide what I was would only bring backlash. So instead, I tried my best to display an image of a Daemon who loved what he was and was unashamed of anything. I stayed true to myself and my opinions, and that appealed to more people than you’d believe. “Beyond that, Vought has helped me a ton during my short time on Earth, help me fit in and I couldn’t be more thankful for it.”

Another hand was raised. “Sir Belial, I’m Alex Johnson of BBC News, are you admitting to your… Less than Holy heritage?”

“That is correct, yes. I’m a Daemon, the greatest amongst my father– Lucifer’s creation and no, I do not want your souls–” I spoke casually and in response, the reporter laughed nervously. “Torturing sinners is a hobby of my father and other less savory demons, not mine. Your souls have little use to me, you can keep it to yourself.”

“Sir Belial, why did you decide to go to Earth?” I looked at the CNN reporter and smirked. Memories of the Hellscape I had woken up to flashed through my mind as I answered patiently. “Why not? I’m tired of Hell, place’s uncomfortably hot and the constant orange makes me nauseous.”

That seemed to stump the group of reporters as they struggled to come up with more questions that would make them break the headlines. I didn’t blame them, I doubted they expected me to be so awfully honest. Even the religious fanatics were finding it hard to fault me, since it’s not like I was hiding anything. The entire room sank into silence, a silence which was soon broken as a fat priest ran toward my, hand clutching a bottle of holy water. “DIE, ABOMINATION!”

The water splashed against my skin and I had to physically restrain myself and Wrath from choking the life out of the lowly lifeform as my skin sizzled and smoked. “Ouch… That’s not very nice of you, priest.”

I wiped the droplets from my face, Demonic Mana flaring and evaporating the liquid in seconds as I gazed at the priest. My Mana slithering into his mind undetected, and his entire life was suddenly open to me. Soul Search was an ability outside of the Ars Goetia, it was something of Lucifer and Lucifer alone. I had found the minds of powered-individuals to be nigh impossible to penetrate with this ability, but Jacob Quinn was your normal, every day man.

And his mind was easily accessible to my view.

A deeper look showed me his deepest desires. Jacob Quinn was a boy with a lot of repressed sexual feelings, he had grown up in a religious family and that had resulted in lots and lots of frustration, especially since he was… In the closet, so to say.

Thus, when he became a priest and was assigned to the Church in his hometown, he wasted no time to exercise his newfound power on those he perceived to be weaker, more malleable and easy to manipulate. In other words, children. Everything matched up to the reports of the private investigator I had hired. “That’s not very nice at all, Jacob. I’m curious though, do you really hate me? Or are you just trying to buy your way into Heaven? And abomination, coming from you? That’s rich.”

My tail bent and propped up to create a makeshift chair that I sat lazily on. “Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself, Jacob? I might be a Demon, but I’m not the one with a fetish to prey on the helpless.”

“W- What? What are you talking about, Demon!”

I chuckled sardonically. “You know very well what I’m talking about, Jacob… I’m a Demon, remember? Your Sins are not a secret to me. How’s the child doing by the way? You looked like you were having fun forcing him to touch your private part. I hope you weren’t planning on going to fourth base anytime soon, since it will be hard to do so from prison, pedophile.”

I turned to the security. “Can someone remove him from the stage? And please, call the proper authority. I’ll tell them everything I know about Jacob’s habit, hopefully he’ll be held accountable for his crimes.”

Soon, the priest was pulled from the stage, screaming obscenity at me. My face was impassive, but internally, I laughing my ass off. I knew the Church wasn’t going to sit with thumbs up their asses while I was debuting, so I had taken the initiative to infiltrate their group. Every single person who would participate in this pathetic attempt to perform public assassination had been thoroughly investigated.

Jacob Quinn was the sole person to display symptoms of mental instability, there also rumors about him in the town, rumors which had been proven to be true by the look of it. And all I had had to do was send a few people to rile him up until he scared out of his mind at the possibility that he would go to Hell. You see, having been born to such overbearing parents, Jacob had begun to resent Christianity in his heart.

He hated the religion with a passion, but it had also offered him an unique opportunity to possess power over others, and while he could not bear to part with that power, he did not truly have faith in God and Heaven either. Obviously, when the revelation about my existence and what it might mean went public, Jacob was fucking terrified. That’s why volunteered for this Holy Mission.

A desperate, if not futile attempt to redeem himself in the eyes of the Lord.

Initially, they weren’t meant to actually attack me, they were simply here to raise tricky questions that would damage my hard-earned reputation, but with his existing mental-conditions, plus the possibility of Eternal Damnation, Jacob had very little to lose at this point. After knowing a little about his past, I could have gone directly to mess with him, but I decided against it.

If it came out that I was found meeting a possible child-predator, it would destroy me socially. So I sent a few people to spread rumors in the small town where he lived, and a few others to speak to him on the matter of my existence, how terrified they were that a demon now walked the Earth and God would not tolerate my presence on his garden.

I had agonized over if I should bring the spotlight on their heads first and foremost, but that would make me seem petty and suspicious. I needed to look innocent, pretend to show that I had little idea about his indiscretion and I was only made aware of this matter thanks to my Demonic Magic, after being targeted by this group of religious nutjobs.

It was the decent plan in my mind.

It accomplished its purpose perfectly. It made me out to be the Hero who discovered a pedophile, it discredited the Church and Christianity as a whole since this event was being broadcasted on National TV, it forced the cops to investigate if there’s any truth to this allegedly baseless rumor and lastly, it saved the young boys Jacob had harmed from his predatory eyes. Even if the cops couldn’t convict him, the damage was done, Jacob would be under scrutiny everywhere he went.

More importantly, parents would know not to leave their children in his care. I fixed my expression, quietly swallowing the smirk that desperately fought to sneak a hint of itself on my lips, and frowned. I didn’t allow Wrath to cover my visage, that would seem fake, all I allowed was furrowed brows that clearly displayed my displeasure and disgust toward the pedophile priest.

“So much for men of God, huh?” I whispered, as though having temporarily forgotten about the mic near my mouth. “Sorry ‘bout that, folks. Let’s continue, shall we?”

I spoke with a tightly-knitted, uncomfortable smile, and the reporters were more than happy to oblige. As for the priests and nuns that had accompanied Jacob Quinn to my press-meeting, they seemed to shrink in unto themselves as accusing gazes shot their way. It didn’t take long for them to make for a hasty retreat once the attention was fully on me again.

——◇  [Ars Goetia] ◇——

“– The police are investigating if there’s any truth to Goetia’s claim, but from what we’ve heard, the evidence is stacked against father Jacob Quinn. This begs the question, should we trust the Church and its religious propagandas? The so-called ‘evil demon’ has proved to be nothing if not helpful and righteous, bringing light to another case of supposed Holy Men’s indiscretion and saving hundreds of lives just within the weeks he has been here. We’re still waiting on the Pope and the Vatican response, but so far, nothing has–“

“How did you know about his…” I interrupted Michelle, pressing a finger to her lips. “I’m a Demon, sins are woven into my nature, it wasn’t hard to know what he does in his free time.”

My index finger rested on her tongue, gently coaxing it out of her mouth. I played with the waggling part, pulling Michelle on my lap. “I don’t usually dig deeper into someone’s sins, for example, I do not need that ability to sense your overwhelming desire to be fucked, dominated and used like the little slut that you are–”

Michelle moaned at the humiliation, her arousal palpable in the air, tainting even the Ambient Mana. I doubted she was listening anymore, but I continued with my explanation regardless, even as my left hand slid under heart breast. With a quick motion, I undressed Michelle, sending her flowery shirt and jean flying, discarded. My gaze was filled with mirth as I took in her body. “Jacob’s sin was merely so severe, so detectable that it screamed for my attention.”

My fingers dug into her fold, pressing harshly against her clit to squeeze out her juice, and perhaps because she had been unable to relieve herself earlier, Michelle instantly started to squirt like a broken fountain. “Ohhh- Ahhh, JohnathaaaAAAH!”

She slumped against me helplessly.

I smirked, retrieving a handcuff I had snatched from the police after our brief interview, and snapped it over her wrists. With her hands cuffed behind her back, Michelle looked at me hazily, confusion visible in her big, watery black eyes. “My, my… Look at that, you’ve soiled yourself and the floor, why don’t you clean that up?”

She turned her sight to the puddle on the floor and tried to get free of the cuffs, but she was unsuccessful. I laughed devilishly. “Sweetheart, not like that. You’re supposed to use your tongue.”

The Asian makeup artist blushed brightly, yet she did as I commanded and fell to her knees. I firmly grabbed her hair as she moaned some more, careful so she did not smash her face against the marble floor and gently guided her mouth to the puddle. She did not need my urging, eagerly licking her own juice like she was dying of thirst. It took her minutes to lick it spotless, but I rather enjoyed myself watching her demean herself.

While she hadn’t noticed, I had fished out a collar and secured it on her slender neck. I tugged her toward me, unzipping my pants and letting my member spring free. It was a monster– My penis as a human had reached a respectful eight inches, but as a Devil, it was even bigger. Eleven inches if I were to hazard a guess.

Michelle pressed her face excitedly against my cock, her tongue lapping at my thick, beefy appendage. She breathed in my scent desperately, as though afraid that I would disappear at any moment’s notice, and I must admit, it was quite the ego-boost. Michelle Le wasn’t just a professional makeup artist, she was a famous influencer as well, her YouTube career had taken off a decade ago with a fanbase of over millions.

Yet here she was, lapping and licking my hardened member like a wanton slut. I smiled, pressing my tip on her soft, soft full lips and just as she began swallow my member whole, someone knocked on my door. “Mr. Belial, may I come in?”

Ah, I knew this voice. It was Ashley Barrett– Vought’s Director of Talent Relations, a redhead with a pair of nice lips that would look quite nice on my cock. A real shame she wasn’t a beauty, I’d say she was a 4, maybe 5 out of 10. Still, that didn’t mean I wouldn’t rock her world if given the opportunity. “Please, come in.”

My voice did not show an ounce of the pleasure I was feeling, it was as dignified and commanding as I remembered it being. Ashley, being non-the-wiser, opened the door to the scene of Michelle Le worshipping my throbbing member like an animal, collared, bound and all that. Her mascara dripping down her teary eyes from trying to fully take my cock down her throat. “Mr. Belial, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to–”

I shushed the redhead, gesturing at the chair Michelle had sat on previously. The Asian woman, finally snapping out of her lust-induced haze, tried to pull back and hide herself, but a gentle pat on her head seemed to reassure her. “Why are you looking for me, Ms. Barrett?”

“I- I- Ms. Stillwell wants to talk to you a- about your position as the consultant of the Seven…” I did not look at her, gazing lovingly at the Asian woman still choking on my cock. Still, I could feel her gaze lingering on my member, I could tell she wanted to try as well, which meant I could bend her over right here and now. But, nothing worth keeping was ever easy to achieve, and just because little Ashley wanted it didn’t mean I’d give it to her. “I’ll have to bother you to tell Madelyn I’ll there in…”

I paused, ‘How long is this going to take me?’

“Tell her I’ll be there in two hours, Ms. Barrett.”

“I- I understand. I- Ah- I’ll take my leave.” The redhead hastily escaped my office and I could not help gazing at her ass. Ashley Barrett might not be the prettiest girl I had seen, but she did have a nice body under those suits. ‘I’ll thoroughly enjoy prying them off her…’

“Now, work those jaws better, love. I’m getting bored.” That sent a fire down Michelle Le’s heart as competitiveness and grudge shone in her eyes. I supposed she had seen me staring at Ashley’s bouncy ass, and she didn’t seem to like it. “If you keep boring me, I might have to look for little Ms. Barrett…”

That, that tripled her effort as she tried her best to make me cum. Had I mentioned how much I loved being a Daemon? Yeah, being a Daemon rocked.

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